Spring, 2023

Mountain weather. Damn. Sucker punched again. After nearly a week of Spring's wonder - buds and blooms and blossoms just beginning, a soft breeze, gentle weather, wedgewood skies - temperatures dropped again and snow threatens. But, the chill won't last, and the snow won't stick, and Spring really is underway. My peach trees made it through the Winter as did the weeping cherry, and the apple trees have buds by the thousands. And, of course, the pear tree - which Jamie and I planted decades ago - is as fertile as ever. Last year a bear got all the lower branches, but anti-bear spray plus my son's dog ought to keep it at bay this season, although we did just see one nosing around some newly planted trees bordering our first meadow, a project of the forestry department, native shrubs to help suck up water as it comes off the mountain. 

So much above ground. So much below. What creatures have yet to surface? What creatures won't ever? Yet, it doesn't feel so busy because few of the birds and none of the bees have shown up. My heart leapt for joy at the first flock of robins in the back yard. Chickadees signalling each other - siree, siree - morning glory seeds - always a trip. And there are the crows, constantly the crows, raucous as screeching brakes. I've seen a pair of geese following the creek up stream, and one pair of wood ducks following it down, but not yet anything else. No eagles. No herons. No woodpeckers. No Kingfishers. And no bees. I read a fellow recently, guy by the name of Mark Nepo, that the flower doesn't dream of the bee. It blossoms, and the bee comes. So much to anticipate: meadows filled with color; air filled with scent; awkward newborns; fresh trout; prancing turkeys, hungry bear, drumming grouse...They're all out there where, if we're lucky and if we happen to be looking in precisely the right direction at the appropriate nanosecond, we might just might get to see one. We might get to see that turkey spread his tail and dance, We might get to see that grouse percuss a stump with her wings. We might get to see that spotted fawn hidden in tall grass, its mother carrying the seeds of future meals on her raggedy winter coat. We might even get to see that bear, but rest assured he will be running in the opposite direction. We will get to see lady bugs and may flies, violets and dandelions, mountain laurel and lilac. Someone will claim to have seen a panther, but I won't believe it.